Pirates of the Caribbean: Bootstrap's Secret
by Lady Belilmathiel
Summary: While many people think Bootstrap simply died in Davy Jones' Locker, this is not the case. This is the story of his most guarded secret... and the secret is finally going to be revealed... (BASED ON MY THEORY!)
1. Epilogue

The sun rose on the eastern horizon, painting the sky with pale hues of rose red, orange, and yellow. Wan sunlight spilled gently over the figure of a woman dressed in a dingy white dress on the white-sanded beach of a lush tropical island. She stirred and sat up, brushing her tangled red hair out of her face. Blinking several times in the sunlight, she stood and walked into the shallows of the ocean. Cupping her dirty hands, the left one wrapped in a bloody bandage, she filled then with water and rinsed her face, hissing softly as the salty water seeped into the numerous cuts and scratches that covered her face. She wiped her face dry on a dirty sleeve; the salt still felt slightly crusty on her face, but she didn't care. Cupping her hands again, she brought water to her lips and drank, not caring how bad it tasted or how dirty it undoubtedly was; it was all the water she had to survive. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes as salt water seeped through the bandage on her hand and it started to throb.

"Bloody 'ell," she muttered as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She waded out of the water, fighting against the weight of her wet skirt. When she made it back to the beach, she sat down again, exhausted from the efforts of wading through the water. The gashes on her legs were starting to bleed again, and they too throbbed due to exposure to the salt water. The largest gash on her right thigh stung like fire, and she had a feeling that if she stayed on this island much longer it would become badly infected if it wasn't already. Many wounds covered her body; she found it a wonder that she hadn't died of blood loss, or been killed in her fight.

She glanced over by where she had built her fire several nights before. It had gone out during the night, and she needed to re-light it if anyone was going to see her signal. Her swordbelt and pistol were lying of to the side of the fire. By force of habit, she buckled the belt on and thrust the pistol into it beside the sheath of her sword. Standing up stiffly, she walked around the beach, gathering any dry sea-grass and driftwood that she could find. When her arms were full she made her way back to the site of her fire and dumped it on top of the ash of her previous blaze. Sighing softly, she dug two small pieces of flint out of a small leather pouch on her belt. It took several tries of her striking them together for her fire to spark. As she blew softly on the spark, the fire steadily grew. In a few minutes, she had a large smoky blaze. She sat beside it, humming a tune under her breath. Every once in a while, she would sing a few words. She gazed sadly at the horizon, hoping that a ship would sail to her rescue, but doubting that anyone would come.


	2. Chapter 1: A Mysterious Meeting

Disclaimer: I forgot to note this in my last chapter, but anyone whose name you recognize from the movie in this story, I DO NOT own. I wouldn't mind owning Jack, though! lol. *wink wink* Please R & R!

Author's Note: I also forgot to add this in the epilogue. I mean for this to take place perhaps a year after POTC: TCBP. Please read and review, even if it is criticism (hopefully constructive criticism!). Also, I need to learn more about the ships and all, so if any of you know of any websites or books that could help me out, please let me know! I'm not having much luck. R & R and thanks for reading!!!

Chapter 1: A Mysterious Meeting

The girl sighed as she looked at the horizon. The day was spent, the sun was setting behind her, once again painting the sky with vibrant hues. Not a single ship had passed by all day. Hope was beginning to fade in the girl's heart, every day she spent on the island was one day closer to death. The single shot in her pistol was starting to look mighty tempting. 

She stood up and stretched as the final rays of sun disappeared behind the leafy palms in the center of the island to her back. She turned and began walking toward the shelter of the palm trees, hoping against hope that she might be able to find something to eat, even if it was just a handful of berries or leaves. Reaching out, she ran her palm over the trunk of one of the huge trees. The rough bark was somehow a comfort, and a faint glimmer of hope returned to her heart. If the trees could make it here, so could she. Near the foot of the tree there was a bush, mostly leaves, but there were a few sprigs of berries scattered throughout the bush as well. She knelt and picked out as many berries as she could hold, then walked back to her fire.

She gasped and dropped her dinner of berries into the fire as her eyes wandered to the horizon. A sail had appeared at the edge of her vision. It was hard to believe. Her eyes had to be lying, but the ship was still there. A triumphant yell exploded from her mouth and she fell on her knees, still screaming. Tears rolled down her face as she laughed. She ran around the beach, gathering more driftwood and dry sea-grass, ignoring the searing pain in her leg as the gash in her thigh ripped open farther. When her arms were full of dry tinder, she dashed back to her fire, and added the wood and grass to the blaze, making it glow brighter than ever. Sparks flew into the air along with the smoke, the fire was cracking and spitting as the tinder burst into flame. There was no way that the crew on the approaching ship could miss the fire signal.

"Please… Please God…" the girl whispered. She sank down beside her fire again and watched the ship approach as the stars appeared in the sky. Soon it was almost too dark to see the ship. If the moon had been hidden behind a cloud, it would have been pitch black. As it was, the moon, half full, was shining down, sparkling on the ocean like a thousand diamonds. Watching the ship sail towards the island through a sea of sparkling jewels was completely surreal. After four days and three nights spent on an island with barely anything to eat and only salt water to drink the idea of any human companionship, especially if food and drink were involved, was tantalizing.

It was near midnight when the ship dropped anchor off the shore of the island. Not long after the ship had made anchor, a small boat was lowered from the deck into the ocean with several people onboard. It seemed to take hours for the men in the boat to row to the island, though in reality it only took around fifteen minutes. The girl stood up beside her fire, sword in hand. Two men and one woman approached her, two other men sat in the boat, waiting.

The man walking in front of the other two was dark haired with a beard, it was hard for the girl to make out his face in the dark. All she could tell about the woman was that she was dark-skinned, and the other man was rather portly with facial hair.

"'Ello, mates," the girl called from beside the fire, and sheathed her sword, but left her bandaged hand resting on the hilt. "And who might ye be?"

The man who walked in front, who was obviously their captain, stopped in front of her, and smiled, revealing several gold teeth. "I think we might be askin' ye the same question, missie. What're ye doin' on this island, all by your lonesome?"

"That's my business, not yours if I may say so." The girl answered, tightening her grip on her sword hilt.

"Now calm down, missie," the bearded man said. His husky voice was almost musical, and had a bit of a drunken tilt to it. "Just tell me your name, and we'll go from there."

"Aye, that we shall, cap'n," the dark-skinned woman agreed.

"And why should I be tellin' ye my name? I don't know who you are, and I'm not one to be trusting someone simply because they saw my fire signal and responded to it," the girl replied, becoming more tense. The captain's banter made her nervous, it reminded of one of the men on her previous crew.

"Point taken, young miss. Beggin' your pardon, an' all that. Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service," the bearded man said with a bow. As he bent down to bow, several strands of his hair spilled into his face, and when he stood back up he pushed them away absently, his hand brushing several brightly beaded strands back as well. "Me first mate here is Anamaria, and this lump to me right is Gibbs."

The girl nodded, more comfortable now that she knew whom she was dealing with. She had heard of Jack Sparrow, had heard he was a good man and a great pirate. "Right, then. My name's Turner, Rosemarie Turner."

A strange look flashed on Jack's face, his kohl-ringed eyes widening for a moment, but he quickly returned to his former facial expression, the disarming smile. "Turner, did you say, miss?"

"Aye, Rosemarie Turner. What's it to ye?" The girl snapped, obviously suspicious.


	3. Chapter 2: New Shipmates

Disclaimer: As I stated in the last chapter, I do NOT own any of the characters from POTC unless I invented them, so suing me would be a waste of time.

A.N.: I've gotten several more reviews, and thanks to all of you that have taken the time to read, it really does mean a lot to me! Please keep R&R-ing! 

Chapter 2: New Shipmates

"The name Turner isn't anything to me, lass. Now what're you doing all alone on this island?" Jack responded, searching her face, noting how strangely familiar her features were. She reminded him of Will.

"My crew dumped me here after they stole my ship. I tried to fight them," she said, showing Jack, Anamaria, and Gibbs the gashes that covered her arms and face. "If you couldn't tell, I lost. I was outnumbered." She lifted her skirt to show them the deep laceration in her thigh.

Anamaria frowned. "Girl, that looks infected. Let me see that." She knelt by the other woman's leg and inspected the wound, her fingers lightly tapping the swelling skin of the cut. Rosemarie gasped as Anamaria's hand slipped and touched the exposed tissue inside the wound. Blood ran out along with a clear liquid, and Rosemarie's leg buckled underneath her, sending her falling into the sand with a thump.

"I'm sorry, lass," Anamaria said quickly, helping the girl regain her feet. 

"It's all right, I've been through worse." Rosemarie balanced rather unsteadily on her feet. "Listen, all I need is to get to Tortuga and get myself a new ship, savvy? If ye can help me out, that would be just smashing, but if not, I'll stay and wait for the next ship."

Gibbs looked at Jack and muttered, "'Tis bad luck to have women on board, Jack. We already have one on board, but to add another?" He shook his head.

Jack frowned at Gibbs. "She needs help, and I'll be damned if I'm going to turn her away." He looked back to Rosemarie, "Listen, lass. Will ye be willing to pull your weight aboard the _Pearl_? Because if ye aren't, I'll just leave ye here on this island."

"Aye, I'll pull my weight. Just get me to Tortuga, and then I'll be out of yer lives for good." Rosemarie held out her hand, "Do we have an accord, Cap'n Sparrow?"

"Aye." Jack took her hand and shook it roughly. "Let's get aboard then, shall we?" He started to turn, then spun back around to face Rosemarie. "Terribly sorry, I've gone and forgotten me manners. D'ye need a hand getting around, missie?"

"No, I can handle meself. I don't need help. After all, I've made it on this island all by me onesie for three days, I'm sure I can make it to your liddle boat." She grinned at Jack and kicked sand over her fire to extinguish it. When she smiled, her resemblance to Will was almost overwhelming.

"All right, then." Jack turned and swaggered back to the rowboat. When he reached it he stood beside it and waited for Rosemarie to limp up beside him while Anamaria and Gibbs swung into the boat. When Rosemarie reached the boat, Jack picked her up and placed her in the boat with a cheeky smile, then jumped in beside her. He took up an oar as did Gibbs, and they slowly rowed back to the _Pearl_.

Rosemarie looked around at the pirates on the rowboat. They looked like hardy, likely men, and Anamaria looked just as tough. They were just as dirty as she was, their hair long and tangled, many of them wearing bandannas to keep their hair out of their faces. Her gaze wandered to Sparrow's ship, the _Black Pearl_. She was a beautiful ship, streamlined and painted onyx. Her sails were furled and tied neatly, all of her windows were sparkling clean. It was obvious to Rosemarie that Jack cared a great deal about the _Pearl_, and that his crew respected him. Any ideas about commandeering Sparrow's ship flew out of Rosemarie's head as she came to these conclusions, she would be dead long before she had any chance of even trying to take over Jack's ship.

The rowboat sidled up next to the ship and Gibbs and another crewman hooked two giant steel hooks to metal loops that were attached to the bow and stern of the rowboat, and the crewman on board the _Pearl_ began to pull the small dinghy up to the deck. Rosemarie gazed out at the island that had been her home for a little less than a week, cursing her former crew in her mind. She would be more careful next time she gathered a crew, and she would make sure that she got her revenge.

The crew was chanting a sea shanty to help them keep the rhythm as they pulled the ropes to raise the dinghy to the deck of the _Pearl_. When the small boat reached the deck of the ship, Jack jumped out, followed by his crew, Anamaria and Gibbs being the last out. Rosemarie stood up, her left leg shaking badly as it threatened to buckle under her weight. Trying her hardest not to show how much pain she was in, she jumped over the side of the dinghy and landed on the deck, forcing her leg to hold her weight. She gave Jack a look as if to say 'I'm just as tough as you are!' then looked around the deck, taking in her new surroundings. It was a lovely ship, the wood of the railings and deck shone dimly in the starlight.

"Anamaria, take Rosemarie to your cabin and dress those wounds," Jack said, looking at his first mate. "Also, if you have any old clothing you could dress her in, I'm sure she'd be glad to get out of that dress."

"All right Jack," Anamaria agreed. "Come with me, Rosemarie." She grasped Rosemarie's wrist, and began guiding her towards a door that led to the lower decks.

"Y'can call me Rose, there's no need to be using my formal name," Rosemarie said as she allowed herself to be led by the other woman.

"Rose, then," Jack called after her, "I'd like to see ye after your hurts are cared for and ye're dressed proper. Have Anamaria lead ye to my cabin. I'll be waiting." Rose nodded just as Anamaria led her through the door.


	4. Chapter 3: Past Comes to Light

Disclaimer: Still don't own them… Except in my dreams….

AN: Went and saw Pirates again last night… Number 7! I need to make it an 8 though; odd numbers bother me… I guess I'm obsessive-compulsive! lol. Anyway, I'm sorry I've been so slow in updating. School has started anew and so has homework! I've been steadily writing when I'm supposed to be listening to my Algebra 2 teacher though. He doesn't get mad at me because I know him through drama, so it's all good. Plus, I know all the material we've covered so far so it's okay for now. I'll update as often as is feasible, so stay tuned friends and neighbors! PS- YO PANCAKE!!! * wink, wink * Number 8, baby!!! lol!

Chapter 3: Past Comes to Light

Anamaria and Rosemarie sat in the first mate's cabin on the first deck down from the main. The cabin was dark, lit only by a single candle, large though it was. The wood of the walls and deck smelled musky and somehow sweet. The ship swayed from side to side gently, it was comforting somehow.

"There," Anamaria said. "That should feel better." She had put a salve of green tea leaves and dried seaweed onto the worst of Rose's injuries and wrapped them in clean linen. The new dressings were snug, but not wholly uncomfortable. It was much easier for Rose to move around.

"Feels much better. Thank ye, Anamaria." Rose stood and walked in a small circle. Her leg didn't throb as bad anymore, but her limp was still quite profound.

"Ye'll stop limpin' so bad in a few weeks, lass. I'm afraid ye'll carry a heavy scar and a mild limp for the rest of your days, though, mate."

"Aye, I think ye're right, mate. But that's a small price to pay. It could have been much worse… I could be feedin' the fishes in the depths of Davy Jones' Locker." Rosemarie sat down on the edge of Anamaria's bed. The night's activity and the constant ache of her wounds had her exhausted.

Anamaria stood from where she knelt at the foot of the bed and walked to her small closet. After looking at several different items of clothing, she pulled out a white shirt and a pair of gray pants.

"Here, lass. 'Tis better than what ye have on. I give them freely, so don't ye be tryin' to refuse 'em." Anamaria handed the clothing to Rose, and the other woman accepted them with a nod.

"Thank ye again. I'll repay the favors ye've done for me somehow." Rose said as she pulled the pants on under her skirt. They were baggy and easy to move around in, although they cut off mid-calf. Perfect for a pirate, they allowed a full range of movement.

"No need to repay me," Anamaria replied as she turned her back to Rose, allowing the other woman privacy to pull the dress off over her head and to pull the white shirt on. It was large and rather baggy, it was obvious to Rose that it had originally been a man's shirt; perhaps one of Jack's? There was a slit cut at the throat that caused a v-neck effect, but the neck stopped before it reached her bosom.

"If ye say so," Rose stood and tested her weight on her leg again. "Didn't your Captain wish to see me?"

"Aye, that he did, lass. Follow me." The first mate opened the door that led into the ship's dimly lit hallway and walked out with Rosemarie following. She sauntered down the hall slowly while Rose limped behind, trying to match her stumbling gait to that to the rocking of the _Pearl_. Anamaria made a right turn at the end of the hall and stopped in front of a door with a "J" carved ornately into the darkly stained wood.

"Here 'tis. He'll probably have something lying around to drink in there, but if ye're really 'ungry, the crew's mess hall is down the hall to the left," Anamaria pointed down the hallway. "Ye can't miss it. There's always at least one person there, and I'm sure they could help ye find some vittles."

Rose nodded. "Once again, thank ye Anamaria."

The first mate nodded a welcome and walked off down the corridor and disappeared into the mess hall. Rose reached up and knocked on Jack's door, banging her fist roughly against the ornate "J".

The door creaked open after a moment and Jack stood in the doorway. His beat up leather tri-horn hat was off, his dark hair lay around his shoulders, some strands beaded, some dreadlocked, and some braided. He had a bottle of rum in one hand and the smell of liquor on his breath. The musty light of several candles glowed from a small table in the center of the room. Several maps hung on the walls, yellowed with age. The bed was unmade, the gray sheets were shoved to the foot of the bed and the single pillow lay abandoned on the floor. In terms of tidiness, the room seemed a disaster, but there was a sense of coziness about the cabin and Rosemarie got the sense that Jack knew where everything was.

"Ah, me little Rose," Jack said and stepped aside as Rosemarie stepped into the dimly lit room. "Ye look a thousand times better in that shirt than I ever did, love. Would ye like a drink?" He smiled in an adorable way and tilted his head slightly as he motioned to the small table in the center of the room. Two bottles sat beside the several candles. One was clear crystal, full of a caramel-colored liquid that could only be rum if the rumors about Jack Sparrow were true. The other was slightly taller with a green tint to the glass, and it was filled with a deep red liquid that appeared to be wine.

Two plush chairs sat by the table; Jack sauntered over to one, a drunken jilt in his step. He collapsed into it and gulped more rum. Rosemarie followed suit, sitting in the other chair. She grabbed the other bottle of rum and took a swig, aware of Jack watching her. She took another deep swallow of the rum, it went down her throat like fire, spreading a delicious warmth into her stomach and through her body. Jack chuckled and drank again out of his bottle, all the while watching Rose with his dark, kohl-ringed eyes.

"What did ye want to see me for, Captain Jack?" Rose asked, nursing her bottle of rum.

"I was wanting to know your story, love. How ye came to be abandoned on that island for one thing."

"I'm supposing that since you said 'for one thing,' there's more that ye'll be wanting to know, Captain?" Rose sipped more rum and eyed Jack suspiciously.

"Aye, there's more. Ye claim that your name be Turner. I want to know who your father was. Who your mother was." Jack was running a finger around the mouth of his bottle as he gazed intently at the girl with his dark eyes.

"My father…?" Rosemarie frowned at Jack. "Me father's name was Bill Turner."

Jack's brow furrowed farther. "Bill Turner? Bootstrap Bill Turner? Your father was Bootstrap Bill Turner?"

"Aye. The best pirate e'er to sail the Caribbean. Current company an exception, of course." Rose looked at Jack, her eyes seeming to question him as a small smile formed on her lips. His mind was going crazy, he had as many questions for the girl as she undoubtedly had for him. 

"You're sure of this, lass?" The girl nodded, one eyebrow raised. "How…" Jack muttered.

"Ye think I know not me own father?" Rose laughed softly. "What do ye mean, 'how'? What are ye talking about?"

"Nothing, nothing… Questions in the dark of me mind, girl." Jack gazed at the girl with renewed fascination. "Start your tale at the beginning. Where you were born, who your mother was, how old ye yourself are, how ye came to the island and so on. Savvy?"

"Aye, savvy, Captain." Rose took a deep swallow of rum, cleared her throat and began her tale.


	5. Chapter 4: A Tale is Told

Disclaimer: Still don't own the characters… Still dreaming of owning Jack…. Yummy…. lol…

AN: Sorry about the updating delays… My classes are really difficult and I've been having a ton of homework. I'm writing as much as I can, and I'm trying to update as often as possible. Updates might be slow in coming in the coming days, though, seeing as I just sprained my wrist. My brace is making it hard to type, but I'm trying! Keep checking back, and R+R!!! And thanks to all of you that have reviewed! It honestly makes my day!!!

Chapter 4: A Tale is Told

"I grew up in Port Caprice, an English settlement on the northern coast of Jamaica. Me mother still lives there; it was me home until me fifteenth birthday. That was twelve years ago, more or less.  
"Me mother's name was Alexis Page, though most people just call her Red. She took Red as her street name. Aye, she's a lady of the night, as I hear tell they call women of her sort. She never made much money, but she supported me as well as she could. If she could afford it, she would even buy me books. Never had she learned to read or write, yet she made sacrifices so that I could learn how. She was a good woman, for her part.

"Well, one night roughly twenty-seven years ago, a dashing young lad came to me mother asking for her… services, shall we say? That lad was a pirate by the name of Bootstrap Bill. After that night, Bootstrap often came to see me mother. They had a friendly relationship, so to say. After around two years of their so-called relationship, I was born, the fruit of the affair and me mother's only child.

"Pirate though he was, me father came to visit me as often as he could. Oftentimes he would bring me gifts, thing he had most likely stolen in a raid. Books, dolls, dresses… He treated me like a little princess, and he wanted me to be as learned as possible. Over time, me reading and writing improved more and more. Eventually, I was one of the smartest children in the slums of me town.

"When I turned ten, me father gave me the gift of a beautiful sword and bid me practice with it. It was lovely, a golden hilt, the tang the width of the blade, perfectly balanced… there were even jewels inlaid into the hilt. He taught me, gave me lessons as often as he could. He told me I was a natural-born fighter, I already had beautiful form and immense skill. I've been deft with a blade for seventeen years. I still carry the sword he gave me all those years ago, though now I have outgrown it. In me hand, it is simply a rapier, but still a dangerous blade to cross. Me crew stole away me real sword when they left me to die on that island, but we'll come to that part of me story later. 

"As beautiful and lush as Port Caprice was, by the age of fifteen me pirate blood was wide awake and calling to the sea; I began to long for the rocking of a ship, the salt breeze of the sea. More than anything, I wanted a ship to go sail away in and be free. Free to choose where to go and when… To make me own choices, to be free of the law and the rules. Simple freedom…

"Several days after me birthday, Bootstrap came to visit me and me mother. I told him how tired I was of life on the land, tired of rules and laws, tired of watching me mother sell her body to support us. I begged my father to take me with him on his ship, the _Forsaken Angel_. That was twelve years ago. He agreed to take me with him, and I left with only the dress on me back and the sword he had given me. That dress was the one I was wearing on that damned island, it was all my godforsaken crew would give me. They insisted that me other clothes were part of their loot. Anyway, I sailed under my father's command for seven years after the former crew of the _Black Pearl_ tried to kill him.

"Last year he was killed during a raid on Jacobstown on some island near Jamaica, I'm not exactly sure where. Before he died, he had sent me a letter by way of a loyal crewmate. The letter told me that I had a younger half-brother from England who had sailed to the Caribbean. His name is William Turner, the same as me father. I tried to take over me father's old crew as their captain so I could find me brother. I captained me crew for roughly nine months without a complaint to me ears. Last month, me crew began voicing their unhappiness with me skills as a captain. About two weeks ago they mutinied. They kept me on board for a week, and used me for their… their pleasure.

"About a week ago they left me on that damned island to die with only me sword, pistol, and the dress that I left Port Caprice in. As you probably noticed, it barely fit. I was stranded on that island for four nights and three days before you came with only seawater to drink and a few berries to eat. Much longer on that strip of land and I fear that my pistol would have become my only release from my pain." Rose looked at Jack and locked eyes with him; her emerald eyes gazing intently into Jack's kohl-ringed ones. "Thank ye for coming, mate."

Jack's eyes were blank; Rose soon dropped her gaze. He was lost completely in thought. Bootstrap hadn't died ten years ago… Only last year. It seemed as if the facts suddenly came together in his head as his eyes regained their trademark mischievous sparkle. It made perfect sense. When Barbossa had tied a cannon to Bootstrap's bootstraps all those years ago, Bill had still had the Aztec coin. He must have sent the coin to Will after he had escaped from the crushing depths of the merciless sea. Due to the mixed blessing and curse of the coin, he had been able to escape. Yet that still left another quandary: Bootstrap and Jack had been friends. Jack had known about Will, but he couldn't imagine why Bill hadn't said anything about his daughter. Jack's eyes roved over the girl's face. He could see the resemblance to her father… to her brother. She wasn't lying, that much was certain. Glancing again at the girl's face, he realized that she was talking.

"What was that, lass? I was thinking." He reluctantly pulled himself out of his thoughts and forced himself to concentrate on the girl.

"I asked if you know my brother. Watching your reaction to my story, I gather that you knew my father."

"Yes to both. Bootstrap was a good man. I knew him as William, though. I was one of the few that did. He was a good friend. A good pirate."

"And what of my brother?" Rose looked at Jack anxiously.

"He's a good, honest man. A good friend," Jack replied and swigged more rum.

"Not a pirate?"

"No. This path isn't for the likes of Will Turner. He's too good to be raiding and pillaging like a common miscreant. He's the greatest swordsmith in the Caribbean, and he's married to one of the most beautiful and honorable ladies the Caribbean's ever seen."

"Good," Rose said, although she looked a bit sad. "I'm glad he's dome well for himself. I was halfway hoping that he'd be pirate and have a ship so that I would at least have somewhere to live on the sea."

"I'll take ye to see Will, but ye're welcome to call the _Pearl_ your home as long as ye like, lass. Any child of Bill Turner is a friend of mine, savvy?"

"Aye. Thank ye, Jack Sparrow. Ye truly are a good man."

"Ye're welcome, love, and thank ye for the compliment." Jack raised his bottle of rum and Rose raised hers. They clinked them together and drained them in unison, then slammed the bottles on the table; an accord was formed in pirate tradition.

"We'll set a new course towards Port Royal in the morning," Jack said as he settled down in his chair and closed his eyes. "Ye can sleep in me bunk tonight, we'll find ye your own cabin tomorrow. Get some rest, we'll have a long day tomorrow." He dozed off after he finished speaking, the rum speeding his descent into unconsciousness and was fast asleep within minutes.

Rose walked over to Jack's bed, grabbing the pillow off the floor on her way. Her gait finally matched the rolling of the ship despite her limp, she noticed with a smile. She collapsed on the bed and pulled up the single gray blanket. Like Jack, she was fast asleep within minutes.


End file.
